


So I Will Stand Here and Burn in My Skin

by calbright95



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, but whats new, modest! sucks camel dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calbright95/pseuds/calbright95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hardcore fan and Larry shipper is offered the job as Harry Styles's beard. Taking the job, she is determined to help Harry and Louis finally live their lives without the control of Modest!</p><p>Or, the one where The Beard is actually on their side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

So I Will Stand Here and Burn in my Skin

Chapter 1

*Rachel’s point of view*

New York at night was my favorite, the bright lights, the noise that never stopped, and the promise of adventure and love and hope, all in one city. When I first moved up here with my best friend, the skyline at night was the one thing that sealed the deal on my question of moving; of course I always tell my parents it was the job market with promises of growth. Although, I’m pretty sure they know that’s all bull considering the only glimpse I have seen of a “job market” here is the little coffee shop on West Broadway. To be honest, the only reason I got the job was because I had 42 dollars to my name and at that point in my life I was not above literally begging for a source of income. Which my boss likes to remind me of.

“And can I get one blueberry scone and a hot chocolate with whip cream, dear?” Mrs. Roberson asked as if she hasn’t been a faithful customer of Java Café for the last twenty years.

I handed her her change and printed her receipt, which she never took. “Do you want the scone heated?”

The answer is yes.

“Yes please,” she smiled at me.

The answer is always yes.

That’s one thing I loved about my job, in the hectic New York lifestyle, we always had the faithful regulars that knew all of the employees school schedules or hobbies or family stories which let me know that I could always count on those handful of people for company when the city threatened to swallow me whole.

“What can I get started for you today?” I asked the next customer in line after I handed Mrs. Roberson her scone and yelled out for Michael, my favorite barista on duty, orders for the hot chocolate.

The man in line had a phone glued to his ear and I didn’t even think he heard me until he ordered a large coffee with room for cream. He was wearing a business suit, which wasn’t unusual, and he seemed to be yelling at whoever was on the other line.

“Of course he doesn’t want this to happen! He’s a child and it is our company’s job to steer these children in the most profitable direction.” He did that whisper/yell thing as his face turned red.

Was this man working for a children prostitute agency or something?

“No that was not a pun, Pablo.”

I continued to make the man’s coffee while Michael switched to the register to ring him up. “And you expect me to find a girl in 24 hours to bring in? That’s unrealistic and you know it.” I heard him say as he made his way down to the end of the counter.  
My eyes widened at his words and my hand reached for my phone hidden in my pocket, ready to dial 9-1-1 if necessary to save the children he was surely selling into the sex trafficking industry.

“Um, Rachel?” I heard Michael call. “You alright, because the timer for the coffee has been going off for a while.”

I instantly went to turn off the timer and poor the coffee into the cup. “My bad.” I mumbled quickly, not wanting to miss the man’s conversation.

I put the lid on his coffee and called out his order even though he was standing right there. “Thanks,” he mumbled grabbing his drink and taking a few steps back. Suddenly he stop mid-sentence and looked me dead in the eye. “Hold on a minute Pablo I think I found the girl”

Frozen, I knew it would be best to run back into the kitchen and hide from the man who probably had plans to kidnap me and sell me to his buddy Pablo.

“Excuse me?” he said coming up again to the counter.

Warily, I made my way to face him. “Can I help you with something?” I said plastering a fake smile on my mouth, my hand still placed over my phone in my pocket.

He pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “I certainly hope so. My name in Mark Kendell and I work for company in the city called Modest! Management. We manage certain bands all over the world and I was wondering if you could help us out with something.” His voice wasn’t threatening, merely professional and business like and I stared at his card as a thought came to my head.

“I’ve heard of you before.” I said honestly after shaking his hand and telling him my name. “You manage One Direction.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“What could I possibly help you with?”

“It’s kind of a sensitive subject and I was hoping we could talk about this more in a professional setting so we can go over details. Do you think you could come to our building as soon as you get off work?”

“Woah, buddy how do I know that you’re not going to murder me or something?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, clearly not impressed with my stranger-danger skills. “Okay fine. When do you get off work?”

I checked the clock behind me. “Fifteen minutes.”

He clapped his hands together. “Perfect! Would you feel more comfortable talking about this here? I can sit in the corner over there and wait.”

I squinted my eyes at the card and determined it didn’t look fake. “I feel sketchy about this.” I told him. He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “But I’ll talk to you in fifteen minutes.”

His shoulders sank as he exhaled. “Thank you,” was all he said before he made his way over to a chair in the far corner.

I turned around only to find Michael right behind me. “What was that about?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

I took a deep breath and made my way over to the register. “I don’t know.” I told him. “But I’ll tell you when I find out.”

Fifteen minutes later I clocked out and found myself face to face with Mark. I refused to call him Mr. Kendell until he proved he wasn’t an insane criminal.

“So, what’s this ‘business proposition’ you have for me?” I said using air quotes.

He cleared his throat and took a long sip of his coffee. “Since you mentioned them earlier, I assume that you are familiar with the band One Direction?”

I sat back in my chair a little confused. Where was he going with this, I wondered. “Yeah. I really like them actually, but what do they have to do with me?”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Nineteen. Why? You’re confusing me here, buddy.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He took another sip of his coffee and I tried not rip it out of his hands. “Do you know of Harry Styles?”

“Of course I know of Harry Styles.”

He cleared his throat again and suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Do you think he’s in a relationship with his band mate Louis? Be honest, please.”

A laugh I had no control over bubbled out of my mouth. “Honestly?” I asked. He nodded and I continued. “Yes. I do think they are in a relationship and I think they have been since the X factor. But, once again, what does this have to do with me?”

He hung his head as if defeated. “Dammit,” I heard him mutter under his breath. “What opinions do you have of Eleanor? You do know who she is, right?”

I tried not to roll my eyes. “She’s Louis’s girlfriend.”

“Correct.”

“She’s a beard.” I told him confidently. “They’re not really dating.”

Mark’s jaw fell open and I coughed to hide the giggle threating to burst through my lips.

“Is it that obvious?” he whispered.

My eyes widened as I studied his face. “Oh my god,” I mumbled. “She really is a beard.” It’s not that I didn’t believe it, because obviously I did, but it was surprising to have it actually confirmed after months of analyzing.

At this statement, Mark seemed to get his act together. “You see, that’s the problem,” he said as he folded his hands on the table between us. “We need to make their relationship seem more legit.”

“We?”

“The company I work for. Which I want you to be a part of?”

This time it was my jaw that fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Listen, Rachel. It is Rachel right?” I nodded my head at his question. “I’m going to give it to you straight.”

“Was that a pun?”

“I want to offer you a job as Harry Style’s beard. You will get paid a nice amount of money along with the fame it comes with being linked to One Direction. Will you take the position?”


	2. Chapter 2

The phone started ringing as soon as Louis’s fingers began to comb through Harry’s hair. 

“No,” he mumbled, burying his face further into Louis’s neck.

Glancing over his boyfriend’s body, Louis picked up Harry’s cell phone. “It’s management babe, might be important.”

Harry froze and immediately sat up. He knew he was expecting a phone call from Mark, their United States management representative, after the meeting he had with them two days ago; Louis still thinks that Harry was just hanging out with some friends that afternoon and Harry is desperate to keep that story as his cover. It’s not that he’s afraid of Louis’s reaction to the suggestion that he should have a beard it’s just- okay, so Harry was bloody terrified of his reaction, which was the reason he was currently standing in a corner of the hotel lobby, eight floors safely away from Louis’s hearing distance, with his iPhone pressed against his ear and Paul standing nearby.

“We have great news, Harry,” Mark greeted. “I think you are going to be pleased.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry paced around his little area. “You found a girl then I suppose.”

“Correct!” Harry could almost hear Mark clapping to himself.  “I think you two will really get along. She will be coming to your hotel tonight to meet you and all the boys and then she will backstage at the concert and then you two will be seen at a club before you drop her home. How does that sound?”

This was nothing new, nothing Harry hadn’t done before, and honestly he should be over the way his gut feeling was screaming at him that these people only wanted money and didn’t care about him or any of the boys. He could tell Mark that it sounded like bullshit but he would simply click his tongue and give Harry a slap on the hand. He was seen as a child that needed to be guided, despite his own opinions and thoughts he had on any situation. Excpesially this situation.

“Sounds fine I guess. When should I start Instagraming and tweeting her?” He was being sarcastic, but Mark ignored this.

“Great question! Tonight you should tweet her thanking her for being at the concert and then next time you see her you should upload a picture. That sounds reasonable, yes?”

“Reasonable,” Harry scoffed. “Alright.”

Harry remembers the first time he realized that being a celebrity wasn’t everything it cracked up to be. He was sixteen, fresh out of the X-factor and in love with his band mate. The other lads were happy for them, of course, but management was quick to tell them that if they were seen in any sort of compromising position then they would be sued for breaching their contract. Harry cried in Louis’s arms that night as the older boy whispered promises of a future together that Harry still visions when he feels on the edge of a panic attack. Like now, as his job took another part of his life, distorted it to the most profitable creation, and handed it back to him with strict instructions of no freedom.

After he hung up the phone and Paul walked him back to his hotel room, Harry went straight for the mini fridge under the television and got out a bottle of Vodka.

“Whoa there, big guy,” Louis said, just noticing Harry’s presence. “No drinking right now, we’ve got a big night.” He took the bottle out of Harry’s hands before he even had a chance to open it and placed it back in the fridge.

“You’re telling me,” Harry mumbled in a weak voice.

“Management was that bad, huh?”

Wringing his hands, Harry slowly walked towards the couch before plopping down. “Um, Lou. You might want to sit down.”

Louis did as told with a weary expression on his face. “What’s going on, Harry?”

“Do you remember when I went to hang out with some friends two days ago?’’ Louis nodded his head. “Well I was actually having a meeting with Modest! and basically they wantmetohaveabeard.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“They want me to have a beard,” Harry sighed. “They found a girl yesterday and she’s coming over to the hotel tonight and staying for the concert.”

Louis appeared frozen. “What did you just say?” he whispered slowly.

Harry tried not to look frightened at the pure venom in Louis’s voice. “I’m so sorry Louis.” He stood up to comfort his boyfriend but Louis was already on his feet.

“Those fucking shits! I made them promise that if I had a beard, you wouldn’t have to! They promised me you wouldn’t have to go through this too!” He kicked the leg of the table, knocking the bowl of fake fruit onto the floor before storming into the kitchen and punching the wall above the stove, leaving a dent in the sheetrock and bruises on his knuckles, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Those bastards!” He was sobbing now and Harry couldn’t bring himself to take a single step, completely frozen as he watched the person he loved most fall apart.

The slamming of their shared bedroom door snapped Harry out of his trance and he hurriedly followed him. The door was locked, as Harry suspected.

“Louis please open the door, babe.”

The only thing he heard was a crash of breaking glass and Harry had a brief image of Louis throwing a flower vase that was on the nightstand against the wall.

“Louis!” Harry screamed, rattling the door handle even more. “Louis!”

It seemed eerily quiet in the other room and Harry had a flash of panic, but then Louis was standing in front of him. He eyes were red and his cheeks were tear stained and he was cradling his right hand that was covered in blood and his knuckles were black and blue and Harry thought he could audible hear his own heart breaking.

“Babe…” Harry whispered like he was talking to a spooked animal.

“Harry,” Louis whimpered and that, that little whimper, is what broke Harry.

“I’m so sorry, Louis” He grabbed the older boy in a tight hug. “I tried saying no at the meeting and they just completely shot me down.” Harry realized he was crying now but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.”

Sniffling, Louis stepped out of Harry’s embraced. “I’m not mad at you Haz. I could never be angry at you. It’s those shits that I’m angry with.” He took a deep breath. “Never you.” 


	3. Chapter 3

                *Rachel’s POV*

My backyard was probably the one thing I missed most about home. My dad put a swing in the big tree when I was six, and up to the age of eighteen, when I finally packed my bags and headed out to make my own world, I would sit on that swing and think. Sometimes it could be about boys or the test I had coming up the next day or anything. Right now though, if I was sitting on that swing, I would be thinking about the fact that I was dating Harry Styles. Even if I hadn’t met him yet. And it was fake dating.

“Rachel!”

“What, I wasn’t asleep I was just resting my eyes.”

Michael snorted and tied on his assigned black apron. When he first got the job I always teased him that it was about time a man worked in the kitchen. He still resents me for those comments. “Late night last night?”

Sighing, I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. “Didn’t really get a lot of sleep, you know. Business calls and nerves and what not. Nice apron, by the way”

“Oh yes, after months of pinning after the British hunk you finally get to meet the ever famous Harry Styles.” He smirked, ignoring my apron comment.

“Did you really just describe him as a ‘hunk’?”

“I don’t understand your luck, I really don’t.”

I didn’t either, to be honest. During my high school years I would have never considered myself as “lucky.” It’s amazing what the city of New York really can do, I thought to myself with a smirk.

“Some people are just born great, dear Michael, while others have greatness thrusted upon them. Or something like that. Perhaps one day I can share my wisdom with you.”

Michael rolled his eyes as he made his way to the main doors of the coffee shop. “How kind of you,” he mumbled as he unlocked them. “Officially open for business. I love the morning shift.”

“It is five thirty in the damn morning. I hate the morning shift.”

“Yes but-“

“Don’t say it,” I warned. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s time,” he began, making his way towards me, his arms outstretched.

“Don’t.”

He grabbed my hands and twirled me around. “To wake up and smell the coffee!”

                Three hours later the morning crowd had finally slowed down enough for Michael and me to take our fifteen minute break while the other two baristas held down the fort.

“So how much you getting paid for this little part time gig?” Michael asked lighting a cigarette.

“7.50 an hour, why? Don’t you get paid that much?”

“I meant as the beard you idiot.”

“Oh uh,” I took a big inhale of my cigarette as I tried to remember what Mark had said during one of our meetings. “A few thousand…with some perks. And pay raises depending on certain situations.”

Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of situations?”

“Get photographed kissing Harry Styles while wearing Topshop clothes and drinking Starbucks. The usual.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “The usual. At least you have the decency to look sheepish about it.”

I took another long inhale and fiddled with my shoelaces. “Actually, can I tell you something?”

Michael could tell that I was actually serious because he flicked his cig down the street and turned to face me. “Go ahead.”

“You know how I always thought Harry was gay? Like I totally called it years ago.”

“Of course,” Michael said rolling his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“Don’t be sarcastic. Well since he is actually in a relationship with Louis I want to, I dunno, help them.”

“Help them?” he asked. “I don’t follow.”

I took another drag and tried to clear my thoughts. “I just think it’s sad that they have to hide who they are, you know? So maybe I could help out them.”

Michael seemed to consider this as he took a sip of the ice coffee he brought outside with him. “That’s very selfless of you and everything, but have you thought of the consequences? What if they don’t want to be outed?”

“I wouldn’t do anything without their permission of course.” I said. “I guess I’ll just have to talk with Harry about it.”

“Yes because that is the first conversation you two should have.”

Grimacing, I realized that Michael did have a point. “You’re actually right. All in good time, then.” I put my cig out and stood up. “But really,” I said pulling Michael up. “You can’t say anything to anybody. I mean it.” I stuck out my fist with my pinky out.

“What are we, four?”

“Swear, Michael Johnston. You’re my best friend, and I trust you, but I need you to swear you won’t say a word to a soul.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes again but grabbed my pinky with his own, nonetheless. “I swear.”

“Good. Now let’s go see if that new cupcake shop down the street is open yet.”

 

                                                                                  ***

Michael was the first person I met in this city who cared enough to remember my name. He was my saving grace at work and suddenly we were hanging out between shifts and then after and then during our days off. So after a solid year of friendship I knew I could trust him with, what seemed to be, the biggest problem of my life. And maybe if I had to call him and ask for advice it wouldn’t make me a weaker individual.

“I need your help.” I said after he picked up on the first ring. “Please explain to me how I don’t have any friend girls.”

“Are you calling me in the midst of yet another wardrobe crisis?”

I sighed into the phone and shut my eyes. “How do you manage to always sound so pretentious?”

“I take offense to that.”

“Please Michael. I don’t know what to wear and a car is picking me up to meet the boys in an hour and a half and I feel like I could have a mental breakdown at any moment.”

“Breathe. I’ll be at your place in fifteen,” he said. “But you really do need more friends.”

“Bless you.”

Michael arrived, as promised, fifteen minutes later.

“Take me to your closet,” was the first thing he said as I opened the door to my tiny apartment.

“So what I’m wearing is unacceptable, then?” I said, looking down at my blue jean shorts and tank top.

Michael gave me a quick once over and shook his head, leading the way into my bedroom. “Oh sweetie, it is a good thing you called me.”

I plopped on my bed with a groan. “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

“Positive,” he said holding up my tan cardigan. “And don’t stereotype, it’s rude.”

I scrolled through my phone as Michael threw clothes from my closet into two different piles which he called “options” and “don’t leave the apartment wearing this.”

He eventually held up a purple shirt with a scoop neck and placed it against his own chest. “What do you think?”

“I think it may be a little small but-“

“Not for me you idiot.”

I thought back to time where I had actually worn that shirt and couldn’t come up with a single memory. “Look’s fine to me.”

Michael arched one eyebrow and looked skeptical. “Just fine? You are meeting the world’s most famous boy band and you are going to wear a shirt that you describe as merely ‘fine’. You sicken me sometimes, Rachel, you really do.”

I blinked, stunned by his strong reaction to my response. “I mean,” I cleared my throat. “Hell yeah I’m going to wear that shirt because it makes me look hot.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and whispered, “That’s more like it.”

An hour later I was somehow sitting in a car that cost more than my entire life and I was still able to breathe normally. My phone buzzed with a text from Michael as I was counting backwards from fifty like my yoga instructor taught me.

_Don’t sweat too much because you’ll ruin your face. Love you, good luck, you’ll do great. Call me as soon as you get home. Text me if you need my yoda-like wisdom and/or advice_

Before I could respond, the car parked in front of the hotel where I was to meet the boys. And my future boyfriend. Yoga breathing, I reminded myself.

The driver, Phillip, I think, opened the car door and escorted me to the hotel lobby. “I have been instructed to tell you that a bodyguard will be waiting outside of the elevator on the fifth floor to take you wherever you need to go.” He said as he pressed the “up” button outside of the elevator.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as the doors opened.

Welp, I thought to myself, here goes nothing. Or perhaps everything. Only one way to find out. Yoga breathing, Rachel, yoga breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sosososo sorry that I am just now updating. I have no excuse for it, besides major writer's block, but please don't give up on this story. Also, still playing around with the POV so be patient with me please. As always, thanks for reading!

           The sign next to the door read “authorized personal only” and Rachel’s eye involuntary twitch at the formality of it. If things went horribly wrong they could murder her and pay the hotel staff to not utter a word. No one would even know. Her body would never be found. Oh my god, One Direction is actually a mob family.

           “Just knock,” the bodyguard said.

            Oh sure. Just knock. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

            "Is it going to be all of them in there?" she asked nervously.

            "Knock and find out." She shot the body guard a look that made him close his mouth and take a small step backwards.

            Rachel took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and finally rapped her knuckle against the door three times. She was in the middle of praying when none other than Mark Kendall opened the door.

            “Lovely to see you again!” he greeted like an old friend. “Please, come in.” He held the door open wider to reveal the small hotel room with a very nervous looking Harry Styles sitting crossed legged on the bed and a very intimidating Louis Tomlinson sitting possessively next to him, one hand placed on Harry’s knee, marking his territory.

             Mark gestured to the two boys in front of her. “Well, as you know, this is Louis and Harry. Boys, this is Rachel and she has very generously accepted the role as Harry’s beard.” He looked excitedly between the two parties, his eyes bright with hope and Rachel was pretty sure he was actually crossing his fingers. Rachel sent Harry and Louis a questioning look, raising one eyebrow. Harry shrugged, smiling nervously at her. Louis squinted his eyes glaring like an animal claiming dominance. Alright.

             “Well, I will leave you to it then.” Mark turned around and headed to the door. “Good luck,” he mumbled under his breath, patting her shoulder. Comforting, thank you, really.

            The sound of the hotel door clicking shut caused Rachel to wince slightly. All alone with two of the world’s biggest pop stars, one who looked a little green and a lot scared and one who was dangerously angry.

             As soon as Mark was out of the room, Louis jumped to his feet, his body angled as if he was physically shielding Harry.

             “You better listen,” he whispered, a finger pointed at Rachel. It reminded her of a parent or a teacher scolding a misbehaving child, “and listen good. I am not happy about this situation.”

            Yeah, no kidding, that was pretty obvious, she thought to herself. She also thought that it would be in her best interest to remain silent and keep her remarks to herself. She had no interest in dying tonight.

            “Harry is mine, not yours, mine.” His voice was calm and cold and murderously quiet. “You are here simply as a hired employee. Understand?”

            Rachel nodded obediently.

            “Good. If you in any way bring emotional harm to Harry you will have to answer to me and that is not something that you want to deal with. Got it?”

            Rachel nodded again.

            Louis seemed to calm down then, seeing she was trying to be as compliant as possible, and his shoulders suddenly sagged and a look of defeat clouded his face. He took a step toward Rachel and she briefly wondered if she should be ready to throw a punch. Not that she wanted to hurt Louis, of course, but just as an act of self-defense.

            Louis’s blue eyes gathered with tears and a sense of longing seemed to flow out of him. “Please,” he breathed. “He’s been through so much.” He was so quiet that Rachel was sure Harry couldn’t hear him. “Please. Don’t hurt him. Try to protect him. Please.” His face lowered to the ground and Rachel briefly wondered if he was going to start crying.

            Trying to be a source of comfort for the distressed man, Rachel timidly reached out her hand and grabbed Louis’s shoulder. All fear vanished as she realized Louis was not angry with her specifically, but was hurt and scared. “Louis,” she mumbled, causing him to raise his head. She looked him dead in the eyes and squeezed his shoulder. “I promise,” she said, trying to make Louis understand the sincerity of her words. “I promise I won’t hurt him. I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect him.”

            Louis sighed with relief. “Thank you,” he said giving her a small smile that was actually just a raise of one corner of his mouth.

            He moved to step out of her grasp but she held on tighter. “And I promise,” she told him, “to do everything I can to protect you too.” Louis seemed shocked by this statement, perplexed that this stranger would even offer such a thing. She wanted to say more, more promises of protection to the broken boy she just met, but she simply let her arm drop to her side and took a step back.

            Louis opened the door, but before he stepped out he turned back. “Thank you,” and then after a smile to Harry and muttered "love you" he was gone.

            Feeling emotionally drained from the brief conversation and suddenly burdened with Louis’s pain, Rachel plopped onto the end of the bed and buried her face into the comforter letting out a groan.

           “Do you always say hello like that?” a deep voice asked.

            Rachel sat up alarmed and was reminded that Harry Styles was in the room.

            On a bed. That she was also on.

            Rachel knew the polite thing to do was to shake his hand and introduce herself but all that came out was, “my god, is he always that intense?”

            A loud laughed bubbled out of Harry and he placed his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “No, no, not at all. Louis is,” Harry waved his hands around trying to come up with a word, “protective.”

           “That’s for sure. Pretty sure he threatened me with murder. It was in his eyes.”

           Harry laughed again but then shook his head. “He likes you. He may not like this situation, but he likes you. He respects people that care about us.” He said. “And not just me and him, but the others as well. Liam, Zayn, and Niall. We’re family.” He shrugged as if it was simple understood logic and Rachel was taken aback by how utterly genuine he spoke.

           “Well, I’m happy I watched your movie then,” she said trying to lighten the mood, “because the closeness you all have is pretty evident in it. I feel prepared.”  

            Harry sat up, impressed. “Did you homework, huh? You a fan or should I be worried you’re actually a psychopath who has come to stalk me?” He said, jokingly kicking her leg with his foot.

            “Oh, don’t think so highly of yourself, superstar. But, not to brag or anything, I am on the movie poster.”

            “Yeah? No way.”

             Rachel tried to put an overly dramatic look of smugness on her face. “Twice.”

             Harry smiled widely like it was the best news he had heard all day. “Okay, I’m officially impressed. You are now the best fake girlfriend I have ever had.”

             Although Harry was clearly joking with her, the sudden reminder of the real reason she was here caused her to sit up straight and look at Harry questioningly.

             “So about that,” she started. “Louis said that I am here as an employee and only an employee but I was hoping to be you friend. And his friend too.”

             Harry’s eyes softened and he seemed to believe her. “Yeah?”

             “Yeah. And the others, I want to be friends with them too. I want to make this as painless as possible. I want to support and be there for you guys, not just as some paid worker or fake girlfriend going along with the motions but a real friendship.”

             “I’d like that,” said Harry. “Actually, I think I need that. We all do.” He looked down at his folded hands. “It hasn’t been easy,” he mumbled. “and not just me and Louis’s relationship, but all of it. The fame, the fans, the business of it all.” His voice was deep and his words came out slow like honey.  “When you're 16 and auditioning for the X-factor you never think of the real consequences. Never dream of what it’s really like.” He seemed so sad that Rachel grabbed his ankle to let him know she was there for him. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job.” He said, taking her sign of affection as one of pity, “and I wouldn’t change a thing, honestly. But I guess…”

             “You have to take the good with the bad,” Rachel finished for him.

             He finally looked up. “Exactly. And I try to put up a good front. For all the lads. I’m the youngest so naturally they all assume they have to look out for me, so I try to be optimistic and I try to be okay. I don’t want to be added stress.” He was whispering now, his words fragile and Rachel’s heart ached for him.

             “You can’t think of yourself like that, Harry.” She told him sternly. “Like you said before, they’re your family and they can handle you not being okay. They can take the good with the bad too.”

              Harry smiled a little and nudged her leg with his foot again. “I didn’t know I didn’t get a shrink along with a girlfriend. Added bonus.”

              Rachel felt that they were both comfortable enough now that she could move to sit beside him. “Girlfriends listen to their boyfriends whine,” she joked as she rearranged the pillows behind her.

              “Heeeeey, I’m not whining,” he pouted.

              Rachel laughed but then faced Harry. “I know that we don’t know each other. We literally just met but now we’re family too. I’ll be here awhile, or so my contract tells me.”

              “Unless you get fired.”

              She rolled her eyes but continued on. “Funny, Styles. But really Harry,” her serious tone caused him to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “I can take the good with the bad too.”

              Harry wrapped one large hand around her's and squeezed it.

              “Family,” he said with a nod of his head.

              She nodded back and squeezed his hand, confirming his statement. “Family.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my lovely readers! The next update will be in a few days, or a week at most! Please leave kudos and comments; they are very motivating :)

One Direction wasn't set to perform for another four hours, but a mass of fans had already begun to crowd outside the arena.

Rachel’s eyes widened as she took in the scene, hidden behind the tinted windows of the car, where she was currently sat next to the object of these girls’ fixation. She briefly glanced to the heavens, questioning how in the world fate had placed her in this exact moment- seated next to _the_ Harry Styles who was currently holding her hand, “to feel comfortable  more with this,” he had explained, “practice makes perfect.” She tried to make them feel at ease with the awkwardness of holding a strangers hand by challenging Harry to multiple rounds of thumb wrestling. He won them all, his enormous hands to blame, but by the time the car took them to a tunnel under the arena where the boys’ crew was already prepared with their outfits, an assortment of food, and anything else they could possibly need, all traces of awkwardness had disappeared.

“Oh my God, is that fried chicken?” Rachel asked excitedly as they made their way around the room that Rachel supposed was the equivalent of “back stage.” Everyone seemed to be fluttering about, making sure everything was prepared for sound check and the show, but the stressful level of business reminded her of working in the coffee shop, and she somehow began to feel relaxed.

Harry laughed, forgetting that this was probably very strange for her, that regular people weren’t greeted with a delicious meal whenever they showed up to work, but he was happy that she seemed to be embracing, rather than shying away from, his abnormal life that she was now a vital part of.

He was glad that Rachel was the one chosen for the “title” of his new girlfriend, dismissing the concerning thought that he had to have someone hired for the title, when his very real boyfriend was merely two feet away, but he was only trying to make the best of the situation. He had genuinely enjoyed hanging out with Rachel in the hotel room, getting to know each other with silly questions. He learned that her favorite dessert was cupcakes, one day wanted to adopt a pit bull, and was born and raised in Tennessee and went to college in Alabama before dropping out and running away to the city. When he asked her what made her leave, she just told him that “it’s not really a first date conversation.” He let it go then and asked her about college. After their somewhat emotional initial meeting, with declaring promises of support and family and what not, he was excited to see that she could very easily be goofy and laid back.  Hanging out with her wasn’t going to be a drag, he realized, and he thanked whoever was in charge of his life that this fake girlfriend might not be as horrible as he previously thought.

And when Harry said, “get whatever you want, make yourself at home,” his hands gesturing to the spread laid out for them, he found that he really meant it. With his other beards, Taylor specifically, they would just keep to themselves, never truly interacting with Harry, and the crew wouldn’t even realize that Harry’s “girlfriend” was around. He supposed that defeated the entire purpose of having a beard in the first place, but the past was in the past, and he intended for it to stay that way.

Rachel made her way up and down the table, eyes growing wide whenever she saw something that sparked her interest. “Dude, y’all have every type of chips known on the planet right here. All of them. Right in front of me.” She looked up at him suddenly, face growing serious. “This is amazing,” she whispered reverently, “so much better than the shit at my apartment.”

Harry just shook his head and chuckled to himself, finding it amusing that his English accent was being tangled with her southern one, phrases like “dude” and “y’all” mixing with “shove off, mate!” The press could have some fun with this one.

And he had to laugh again when Rachel let out a squeak when Zayn walked by, her gleaming eyes tracking his every movement. She noticed Harry looking at her and immediately tried to hide her flushed expression. He raised in eyebrow and question and tilted his head towards Zayn. She shrugged her shoulders, feigning nonchalance. “Why are you staring Harry? It’s just Zayn.” Her eyes widened again. “Zayn Malik. In this room. Best friend of my boyfriend. Zayn. Member of One Direction. Zayn.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked her, worried she might pass out or something.

Louis came up then, apparently having heard the entire conversation. “Want some water Rachel?” he asked clapping her on the back. Rachel looked shocked that Louis was actually joking with her, and warily glanced at him from the corner or her eyes, like she was making sure he didn’t have a knife in hand. “Because you look a little thirsty.” He laughed at his own joke before grabbing a plate and helping himself to a serving of mash potatoes.

As Harry was about to join the buffet line, one of the team members in charge of traveling logistics called out his name. He spun around to see a very stressed out Robert gripping a clipboard, franticly flipping through the pages.

“What’s up?” Harry asked lightly, not wanting to freak out Robert more than he already was.

“We just finished booking hotels for the rest of the tour. That’s all taken care and everything should work out since touring ends in two months, but I just got a call from Mark and he said that I should book another room in the cities that you choose, because you’ll be having a guest or something? Family maybe? I had originally paired you with Niall in the rooms, but if you want to stay with your family then I need to know how many rooms to get and when and if you’re-“

“Robert!” Harry cut him off. He was speaking so fast that Harry barely registered the fact that he must have been alluding to Rachel. He hadn’t even asked her about visiting him on the road yet, not even thinking that far ahead into the future. “Relax, okay?”

Robert took a deep breath a closed his eyes for a moment.

“The room’s not for my family,” Harry explained. “It’s for my girlfriend.”

Seeming a tad flustered, like he had somehow intruded into Harry’s personal life, Robert muttered out an apology.

 Harry decided that this would be a good opportunity to introduce this girlfriend of his to a crew member, a good opportunity to assert his heterosexuality. This was the whole point of having Rachel here anyway.

“Let me ask about her work schedule, okay?” Harry looked back to where he last saw Rachel and noticed she was sitting with their hairstylist Lou. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called her name. Her head snapped up and he tried not to laugh at her expression of being caught with a mouthful of food, and beckoned her over.

Rachel said something to Lou and then headed over to join Harry and Robert. “Yeah?” she asked when she finally reached them.

Harry grabbed Rachel’s hand and tried to summon an expression that resembled a proud boyfriend, one that said “yes this hot girl and I are indeed having a romantic relationship, and sometimes we even see each other naked.”

“Robert this is my girlfriend Rachel,” he gestured between the two of them with the hand that wasn’t holding Rachel’s. “Rachel this is Robert. He works out the details of the tour life.”

Rachel stuck out her right hand with a pleasant smile and a typical southern “nice to meet ya.” Robert shook her hand and glanced between her and Harry. “So, as I was telling Harry, we just need to know what days you will be traveling with the lads so we can figure out hotel rooms.”

After turning to Harry, her lips drawn into a tight smile to mask her surprise and one eyebrow slightly raised, which Harry returned with a sheepish smile and a gleam of “sorry” in his eyes for catching her off guard, Rachel gave Robert a dramatic smile. “Oh, I am so happy that I am able to spend some time with Hazza while he is on tour.” She wrapped both arms around his waist and dramatically laid her head against his chest. “I do believe I will miss my honeybee oh so much.” She batted her eyelashes. Actually batted her eyelashes. And she sounded like she had dropped into an old western film, her voice going up an octave and her southern accent increasing past the level of humorous.

Robert seemed stunned and a little concerned for both Rachel and Harry’s mental sanity, before he quickly handed the clipboard to Rachel with brief instructions of “just email me the dates” before he sauntered off, clearly done with dealing with the situation.

“What the hell was that?” Harry asked between guffs of laughter. Rachel was doubled over laughing, and Harry is pretty sure she kept saying the phrase “honeybee” whenever she could catch her breath.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she panted when she was finally able to straighten up. “He looked so innocent, I just had to go overboard at least once.”

Harry wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and offered his hand out for a high-five. After Rachel gave his hand a slap of victory and let out a brief “hoorah”, Harry pulled her close, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and mumbled in her ear, “We have got to work on your acting skills.”

Rachel pushed him away with a laugh. “Stop flirting,” she joked, but reached out to grab his hand. “I promise that I can do better.”

“You sure? Or are you going to blow our cover?” asked Harry.

Rachel tilted her head to the ground and then looked up through her eyelashes, batting them yet again. “Oh my sweet honeybee,” she stepped closer until they were face to face. “I’m shocked you would doubt the flaming passion my loins possess for you.”

Harry barked out another fit of laughter and decided that he could see Rachel becoming a good friend. A best one even.

“Oh, one thing,” Harry said before heading off to sound check. “Only Louis gets to call me Hazza.”

Rachel gave him a wink before returning to her meal. “Looks like honeybee is reserved just for me then,” she said over her shoulder.

Walking to the entrance of the stage, Harry noticed he was still smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm a liar and never update when I should, but here it finally is! Thank you all for sticking with the story. Please leave your comments :)

 

As soon as the concert was over, the boys had strict instructions to jump into their cars and head straight back to the hotel. Harry politely invited Rachel along, and she decided it couldn’t hurt to spend more time with him and “the lads”, as the crew referred to them.

But now, sitting in the small hotel room, Rachel’s anxiety was slowly rising as she looked between Louis and Harry lazily making out, oblivious to the others in the room, and Liam and Niall yelling over a game of Fifa. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her blue jeans, feeling extremely out of place. She sent a text to Michael, partly because she didn’t want to look as awkward as she felt sitting there all alone, and because she knew he was probably waiting for an update.

Rachel: _concert was great. Harry is great. now I’m sitting in their hotel room. H & L are making out and the others are playing videogames. I don’t even know where Zayn is. Help. I feel awkward. I’m literally just sitting here. Text me back so they think I have friends._

“I’m going outside to smoke.” She said to the room after putting her phone in her pocket. The only acknowledgment she received was a small smile from Liam, who then immediately redirected his attention back to the video game.

Rachel stepped onto the balcony with a sigh of relief, happy to be alone for a few minutes. She breathed in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and leaned her head against the glass door. So she wasn’t having a magical bonding moment with the boys, but that’s to be expected, right? This is really the first time they’re all hanging out so she shouldn’t be surprised they all didn’t click right away and become best friends. Counting to ten, she tried to convince herself she was fine with this.

“They treating you alright in there, yeah?”

“Jesus!” Rachel yelped in surprise, a hand placed over her racing heart. So, she wouldn’t be spending the next few minutes alone then. She looked into the darkness and saw Zayn leaning against the railing, the soft glow of the end of his cigarette the only light in the night. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Zayn gave a small laugh, but didn’t seem too bothered by Rachel’s near heart attack. He could have killed her and he didn’t even care. “Sorry,” he mumbled around the cig in his mouth. In the dark night, he didn’t look the intimidating superstar she saw earlier in the day. He seemed like any other twenty-two year old guy, and that in itself was a little unsettling because it was so unexpected.  

Taking another deep breath, Rachel sat down in a lounge chair, momentarily impressed with the expensive cushions before remembering who was renting the hotel room. She propped her feet against the railing and reached into her pocket for her pack of cigarettes.

“Got a lighter?” she asked Zayn. His eyes briefly widened in surprise before digging in his back pocket and handing Rachel his lighter.

Zayn took a drag, blowing the smoke into the soft night. They both watched the smoke float into the atmosphere, quiet but peaceful. “Didn’t take you for a smoker,” Zayn finally said.

Rachel turned to give him a smug smile. “I am full of surprises, my dear Zayn. The mysterious will never cease, as you will soon discover.”

Zayn looked at her silently before suddenly laughing. “Oh my God,” he said between pauses of laughter. “You’re just like Louis.” He was still laughing at the irony of it all, resting his head against his forearms on the railing. “Oh Jesus, how am I supposed to deal with two sarcastic arseholes?”

Rachel probably should have been offended that Zayn just called her an asshole, but it seemed more like a term of acceptance, like she had been admitted into the selective A-list night club by the scariest bouncer. She finally lit her cig and threw the lighter at Zayn’s thigh to reprimand him. “Watch it, Malik.”

“Just taking the piss is all,” he said sitting into the chair next to Rachel.

She looked at him blankly, trying to decipher the weird phrase. “What about piss?”

“Means I was only joking,” he explained. “Got to get you up to date with British slang.”

Taking another drag, Rachel looked into the silent night, the only noise was Niall cursing at Liam, apparently having lost the game. She couldn’t help but to wonder how many girls were imagining hanging out with the boys, just being in their company like she currently was. She took a peek at Zayn who was mindlessly staring at the sky. He caught her eye and offered her a small smile. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

Rachel tapped the excess ash off her cigarette. “You’re real people,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“’S weird,” she shrugged. “I’ve been following y’all since 2010. Have seen three of your concerts, well four after tonight. And now I’m dating Harry and sitting here talking to you. Weird. Very, very weird.”

Rachel can remember the exact moment she discovered One Direction. She was scrolling absentmindedly through tumblr when a picture of a beautiful blue eyed boy with brown hair sweeping across his forehead popped on her screen, oh how fate would have it. She was instantly frozen with fixation, desperate to identify this stranger, only to find that there was five of them, and oh my god they were British, and _oh my god they could sing._

“Having second thoughts about the beard thing?” Zayn asked, pulling her out of her reminiscent thoughts.

Zayn had this weird aura about him that made Rachel want to spill her soul. She figured she should be honest with him, sensing that he would be more than able to spot a lie, plus he seemed like the type of person who could take any honest answer you throw at him.

“Not really,” she sighed. “Just scared.” It felt weird that she was telling him this. Essentially, he was a stranger who she had only met a few hours ago and here she was telling him thoughts she would only admit to herself late at night, hidden in the dark. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted.

He leaned forward, resting his head on his fist, and looked right at Rachel. “Can I let you in on a secret? We don’t either.” He spoke quietly as if revealing a secret.

“What do you mean? You’ve been taking over the world for years.”

Zayn smirked and leaned back in his chair. “There’s no handbook for handling this life style, or life in general,” He spoke with quiet confidence, as if he had spent his entire life thinking about what he was going to say. “We were just kids with a dream, and then we blinked and somehow ended up being controlled by a corporation, all sense of an ordinary life gone. Just got to take it day by day. It’s worth it, in the end, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

Rachel considered this, how hard it was going to be, and saw a future full of nights spent venting about the hard times to Michael, her phone bill creeping up at an alarming rate. Of course, Michael has a tendency to not answer if he knows Rachel is in vent mode, resorting to texts to save his own phone bill. She would have to get more friends or she would go crazy without having anyone to listen to her whine.

Seeming to echo Rachel’s thoughts, Zayn spoke up. “But you’ve got us now. You’re in the family, whether you wanted to be or not. We’re a package deal, and now you’re a part of that.” His tone was casual, either not realizing how much that meant to her or not wanting to embarrass her, but she felt that he was being truthful.  

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, caught off guard by his statement. “Thanks, Zayn,” she mumbled, trying not to convey too much emotion in her voice. She had no desire to scare him away with sudden crying.   

Before he could reply, the screen door slid open and Harry walked onto the balcony. “Do I see some bonding happening?” Harry asked with a proud smile, clasping his hands together with delight.

“Nah,” Zayn winked at Rachel. “Just talking about how much we can’t stand each other.”

“It’s true,” Rachel added. “He called me an arsehole.”

Harry clapped his hands together excitedly. “Wonderful. That means he likes you.”

Zayn let out an airy laugh then turned his attention back to Rachel. “Remember what I said, alright?” And then he stood up, flicked his cig over the railing and walked back into the room, sliding the door behind him.

“Remember what?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning against the wall.

Rachel figured Zayn wouldn’t care if she told Harry about their conversation, but for some reason she wanted to keep it between the two of them. “Oh, nothing, nothing.”

Harry smirked, knowing that it wasn’t nothing at all. “Keeping secrets already, are we? Has Rachel made a new friend?” He crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly, a smug smile on his lips.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel warned, “tell him that I completely fangirled over him at the concert, and you’re dead to me,” she said sternly, pointing a finger at him. “I mean it, Styles.”

“Okay, okay, no need to get all defensive about it,” he laughed. “No need to get all defensive about your crush,” he sang in a high pitched voice that most definitely carried into the hotel room.

“Dead to me!”


End file.
